Diary of a Glitter Splashed Britney Lovin' Lesbo

I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else

Name:Miss Fee


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The Outsider - A Camus

Choke - C Palahnuik


Tuesday, April 30

I just tried my mum’s jeans on, to create the ‘blue jeans arse’ look for myself. You were right Young B, I definitely did not like the results. My own personal ‘blue jeans arse’ was the biggest arse of such variety I have seen in the history of ‘blue jean arse’ spotting. I mean on an everyday occasion I do not have the smallest of asses but today, Jesus Christ it was a fuckin football pitch but rounded at the edges. I so hope that I never fall victim to this non fashion trend. Just call me Massive Arse Fee. No don’t.

I woke up this morning to my CD player screaming into action, around 8.35am. I set the alarm on my cd player each day but I had forgotten that the last song I listened to last night as I threw myself around into a coma was ‘flashdance’ at near full blast. That got my ass outta bed I tell you. I woke with a start and lay there until the chorus came on and I could take it no more. I literally threw myself out of bed into a split leap and landed into a lunge with excessive jazz hands going on. There was then multiple front kicks going faster than I could keep up with and mucho shoulder shimmeying and my final burst of energy thrusted me into painful ground level splits with arms thrown aloft. For 2 minutes and 33 seconds I really was out of control. I’m typing this from floor position, the same position I have remained in since I hurled myself into the splits. If I ever make it off the floor I will find walking painful with the pulled fanny muscle I am now the proud owner of. High energy dancing at that time in the morning should be illegal. I just couldn’t help it, the beat really did control my body. I love a dance as much as the next fat person but really I do not have the physical stamina for it. Yesterday I tried pulling off some Britney Spears chair dancing (surely you have seen the Stronger video??) which involved spinning and standing on chairs and breaking said chairs and some bones. I looked hot, yeah over perspired hot. Britney has got nothing on me I tell you. I used to dance from the ages of 5-17. In know this is hard to believe and feel free to not hold your laughs back as fairy elephant Fee tells you that she did disco, tap and wait for it, BALLET. Imagine me in a tuto??! Imagine all you like cause it’s a memory I have tried very hard to block out. More often than not I was found strutting around in lilac lycra tights with a navy leotard and my andre agassi tee shirt with my fringe bouncing around like a whore on a cock. Actually I wasn’t even shit at dancing. I’m sure I should have been. I thought I was too much of a heffer but to be honest, I have seen worse. I even did exams almost to teacher level, really. I used to take in my mum’s ‘rescue remedy’ pre exams and get everyone so hyper that we flew around the room sticking our fingers up at the ancient fat ass judges who would grade you good if she thought she might get a lick or two. These exam days were the only days I was forced to take my tee off and it was like belly city. I knocked at least four people out with my jiggly gut as I spun around like a nob. Not a good look. One day we even got our pictures taken for the paper and me and my mate were shoved in the back, refusing to take our tees off but we were beautiful. And at least the whole of Aberdeen could not see the size of our non tits. Oh how I loved those days of uncomfortable pants and scraped back hair. My favourite memory, apart from being so obsessed with the dancing teacher that I’m sure I gave her anonymous calls, was when my friend was taking part in a festival in orange lycra and at age 13 was told to bleach her bush cos her soot black pubes were shining though and that’s all the pervy judges could see. She won that day. My dancing days came to a close when I got glandular fever however and by this time I had grown attached to my new dancing teacher. What is it about ladies in skimpy clothes thrusting themselves around the room that I love so much? She didn’t love me though. Fuck no. She hated me with more than a fiery passion. I know one reason behind this was because I took in a mixy one week which contained such delights as gin, vodka, rum and curdled Baileys and got at least 3 people wasted. Not bad for a 14 year old and considering I was the oldest I was termed a bad influence and had to go grovelling and kiss jazz pumps. I quite enjoyed that part and she still never told my mum. Ladies in lycra with over the top smiley faces I salute you and thank you for making my fat years so pleasurable.

Listening to: the locomotion